The nothing boy from the nothing district
by Saza-m
Summary: This story is about the district 9 boy before he was killed in the hunger games. He died whilst trying to win the bag from Katniss. i feel that this boy is almost invisible, and hope my view on his thoughts and feelings will be an interesting short story.


(Hello! this is basically a short story about the short life of the district 9 boy. here is my version of his life, as it seems that no-one really cared about him in the story, when if the hunger games was real, he would have been important in someone's life)

I close my eyes…

I wish for a slice of time where I'm not masked in the darkness of anyone else's shadows.

Do you know who I am?

Do you even know my name?

I am the nothing boy, from the nothing district, known only as 'The place where they grow the corn'.

I'm an average boy. I was never the best or the worst, Never the tallest or the shortest, never the dumbest or the smartest; Just average, and in the middle like an intruding worm in the centre of a rotting apple.

That's why I'm a nothing boy… no-one even knows I'm there.

I open my eyes to the dismal setting that has been staged around me, for once preferring to cower in the darkness, than let the light focus on me.

Every year is the same.

A pathetic, nothing, district 9 tribute gets spat onto the Capitol game board, forced to be a tiny piece of their twisted games; a game where the capitol even control the way the dice rolls

This year being no different; a district 9 never leaves the arena just as surely as the mocking jay sings.

The timer had already begun, and my thin legs shook below me chinking against the metal plate that I trembled upon. I bit my tongue, trying to quell the fear that rose from my stomach like acidic bile.

Breathe in. And out. Don't show them the fear that's pitted in your stomach.

Everything in my heart screamed '_run now, while you still can' _but logic over ruled and my brain countered that if I even stood a snippet of a chance, I had to simmer in my own fear. Rather that than be blown to pieces.

I know I have no shot at winning, but may lightning strike me where I stand if I don't even try.

I fixed a fierce expression onto my face that probably didn't look like the snarling image in my head. I pushed any though of running now to the deepest part of my mind.

The Capitol may have taken my freedom, but they sure won't take my dignity.

Instead I cast my thoughts back to my younger brother. How his eyes would now be glued to the television, like a vulture waiting, watching his food perish.

His innocent mind is so full of hope, not even thinking for a minute that I won't be returning. How young and refreshingly foolish he is now, but he won't be for long. His mind will be twisted by our 'leader' wrung and clawed at until he loses everything to live for. Nice and weak like the rest of us.

Before he is seven he won't be a child anymore, forced to grow up so he can look after mother and our older brother, whilst dad works in the factories.

He could have been the one to make something of our district, but the Capitol won't let him. They'll throw a saddle on his back and ride him down the path of no return, and when he tries to stop they'll whip him back into shape, or even throw a noose around his neck.

How unjust this all is!

I felt white hot anger rise up through my body, not even trying to barricade the oncoming flood of emotion, hoping the hate will smother my fear, and make me look some what of a fighter.

I shouldn't even be here! It should be my older brother. He's stronger, and can't look after mum and our little brother when dad isn't there.

I should be at home…

But no amount hopes and wishes can carry me home now. What's done is done, leaving me with another mountainous slab of reasons why 'life is not fair'

10 second left.

I'm not ready…

I swallow the sickly panic back down my throat, and poise myself into a position that looks like I know exactly what I'm about to do. I hope my lie looks believable.

8 seconds left.

I'm really not ready…

I eye my competition warily, whose eyes were already darting around the arena like cats watching a grasshopper jump around a room. They're so much fitter than I am. More muscle, more definition, then again of what do you expect? The nothing boy can hardly be the muscle of the arena can he?

What possible hope can I hold?

5 second left.

I want to go home…

Don't show them weakness! They devour weakness.

2 seconds left.

I have already embraced this hell as my graveyard. I accept my fate, but wish with my heart that I could change the view on district 9's tributes. I tilt my head towards the camera. Just one look and my family will know that I'm saying I love them.

I barely even register the noise, but only told that it's safe to go from the charge of the tributes as they rush forward, some like lambs, others like bulls.

A heartbeat pounds in my forehead, pulsating to the sound of my footsteps.

Thump, step, thump, step.

Adrenalin propels me forward, without it I know I would have curled into a vulnerable ball there and then.

I'm running…

What now?

Where do I run to?

Shall I stop_?_

_What am I doing here?_

Panic filtered through me again, and it was as if I had climbed onto a stage in front of thousands of people, and forgot what I had to say.

I stop dead in my tracks, forgetting I was in an environment where the aim was to kill. A knife whizzed past my ear, splitting the air as if cutting the waves of fear pulsating from my body.

Think…

Think!

Look every where!

But this was easier said than done, as confusion overruled every sense in my body.

A bag... Grab it!

I lunged forward, and grabbed the luminous bag, for no other reason other than that I couldn't think of what else to do.

I tugged and began to turn.

But I wasn't without company…

I jerked my head around, and let my eyes shimmy up the skinny arm at the end of my bag.

Her eyes were grey, and filled with crazed despair like a hedgehog caught in the headlights. Her mouth was set in an upset light, and her lips began to curl over her teeth. Her long braided brown hair swung like a metronome in a fast beat, and she tugged and twisted trying to pull the luminous bag from my paralysed hands.

She can't have it. It's _mine!_

I tugged back just as hard, my old friend panic never leaving my side; I twisted the bag straps until they burned my hands.

She can't have it!

For a second, her eyes penetrated mine, and I could see by the swimming fear in her stormy eyes, that I was not the only friend who panic was visiting.

She still can't have it!

She won't ha-

A crimson fountain erupted from my mouth. I staggered forwards and let the bag slip from my python grasp.

The Katniss girl was gone almost instantly, a terrified look cast behind me as she fled.

Time moved oh so slowly…

I crumpled to my knees, as time ticked by in elongated seconds, a warm flood of blood spreading over my back as it did.

I fell to my stomach gasping in my final breaths.

The pain was great.

But then it disappeared as the slow time ticked by, like a whisper lost in a sharp breeze. Death licked my toes, and I felt his icy fingers dance over my arms, but he had not engulfed me yet.

I used to wish for a slice of time where I wouldn't be masked in anyone else's shadow. I got my wish in a twisted way. After all, everyone it the whole of Panem is watching helplessly as the nothing boy who's name we don't quite remember, slowly looses his nothing life.

Do you know who I am?

Do you even know my name?

I am Dale Edwards. The nothing boy that no-one remembers, from the nothing district known only as the place 'where they make the corn'

Will anything change now that I'm gone?

Does anyone realise that I am known somewhere? That someone somewhere does love me? Why does it take my death for people to notice me?

I'm sorry I let you down brother. I'll miss you.

I close my eyes…


End file.
